the kid's alright
by displayheartcode
Summary: Nico gets life advice from the dead.


**AN: Jay promised me his firstborn when he tagged me with the idea on tumblr. His reaction after was so worth the pile of homework that I now have.**

 **I'm still recovering from my first round of eye surgery, so I'm a masochist for typing more fun fic stuff.**

 **Disclaimer** : I own the sclera buckle that is now in my left eye, but not the works of Rick Riordan and the smidge of Madeline Miler.

 **Title** : the kid's alright

 **Word Count:** 715

 **Summary** : Nico gets life advice from the dead.

* * *

Nico glowered, raising his sulking head from his crossed arms that were bent over his knees. _"Well?_ Are you just going to stand there and watch me?"

The air in the Underworld grew annoyingly colder as the ghost refused to move. Even as ages had passed, death was static for the dead, still showing the shadow of polished armor and something almost recognizable in the face of the spirit.

The dead man turned his head, taking in the damages that Nico had caused to the riverbank in his anger. Large chunks of rocks were broken though the surface, the glossy shards reflecting Greek Fire that was burning nearby. Bones, not white, but yellowed and cracking, littered the rocky ground. A half-crushed skull was near Nico's feet.

"The…things… we do…" His voice was soft, his form flickering as he moved through the destruction with an odd grace, "with…such _emotion."_

Nico raised his eyebrows. "Oh, no," he said. "Don't tell me that you're one of those dead philosophers?" He'd stayed around the Underworld enough to know that avoiding the likes of Plato and Socrates was a survival tactic if one didn't wanted to be bored by their endless ramblings.

The dead man sat down next to Nico, gaining more of an appearance because of the Ghost King's presence. His voice became stronger as dull colors bleed into his tunic and skin. "I'm afraid I only know one kind of philosophy."

"What's that?"

He gave Nico—who realized with a pang that the man's eyes were green like Percy's—a funny half-smile. "Death."

"I think I know something about that," Nico said.

"It doesn't ail you," said the man, no, a solider. His armor was bronze and decorated, his brown arms and legs were corded with thick muscle. There was nothing about him that suggested a long-bearded old man that spouted words all day long. "No, that must be a different emotion."

Nico looked at the ghost again, squinting. "Are you trying to give me cryptic life advice?"

There was a pause.

"And my dad sent you, didn't he?"

There was another pause.

"Yeah," Nico said bitterly. "Great talk." He stood up and wiped the Underworld dust off his black jeans. "Do me a favor and try not to follow me, okay?"

With the air now several degrees cooler, he started walking off; his thoughts clouded with a new anger that was not only directed at himself, but to his dad.

 _I don't want to talk!_ screamed a voice in the back of his mind. _Let me do this! Let me be angry! I don't care anymore. I don't care anymore about being a hero. I don't care about liking Percy—_

"Patroclus."

The single word hanged in the air.

Something finally clicked, and Nico walked back. "Patroclus," he repeated.

"Yes," Achilles answered. "He made me stronger, he made me human. He's the other half of my soul."

"But…" Nico tried to think back to the lessons that he was given back at Camp. He remembered some about the Trojan Horse, a group of unlikely heroes, and…Achilles and Patroclus. "I thought that you two were really good… _Oh,"_ he ended as Achilles let out a laugh.

He was smiling. "It started off as such, but we were determined for me to be the first." His smiled faded and some of the color had left his face. "I'm afraid that the Fates had woven other plans for us." Achilles looked over to where the Isles of the Blest were. "And what say you, Ghost King? Does my love for him make me less heroic?"

"N-no!" Nico stuttered over, embarrassed at what the famed hero now thought of him." No! You're the best hero out there! You did all of this cool stuff—and—and you did—"

Achilles calmly took over. "And yet maybe you'll one day be more heroic than me."

Nico swallowed his words and nodded.

"Be happy," Achilles added. He scrunched his forehead, thinking deeply for a few moments. "Gay…is okay. Is that the correct phrase for your generation?"

"I…yeah?"

Achilles nodded gravely. "Because I am a cool cat."

"No," said Nico.

The famed hero of Ancient Greece rose to his impressive height.

"I mean yes," Nico corrected. "You are _the coolest cat."_

Achilles agreed, "The coolest."


End file.
